Rock Parchment Shears
by IRiSEaGLes
Summary: Written for The Houses Competition. Teaching a pureblood Rock Paper Scissors isn't easy, but then that is just the beginning of the competition.


The hodgepodge group of quidditch inter-departmental league players sat around the main dining room of the Leaky Cauldron after another marathon game. The common hangout had not changed over the many years since the majority of this group gathered for the first time to purchase their first-year school supplies before heading to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter, the captain for Magical Law Enforcement, sat at the head of the long table while at the opposite end sat Draco Malfoy, captain for Department of Mysteries. Between the two sat numerous coworkers, spouses or significant or not-so-significant others, and friends. The stare down was intense. The room seemed to take on an eerie silence as the two opponents made the room ice cold with their glares. The only thing daring to get between these two formidable wizards was the ever-present dust floating around them.

"Rock, paper, scissors Malfoy. It isn't hard. Whoever wins gives the first challenge," the bespeckled wizard stated firmly.

"I just don't understand the scissors? Are they like parchment shears?" The wiry blond wizard glares his questions at his counterpart.

"Yeah, but if you want a bit of fun, then you could play 'Rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock'" a dishwater blond wizard, someone from Mysteries, chirps up.

"Wait a minute, I am a muggle born witch, and I don't know those rules," Hermione Granger-Weasley chimes in. "I may know a lot of things, but American muggle pop culture is not high on my radar. I would not expect Malfoy or for that matter Harry to know it either."

"Uh, Mione, well, Ginny kinda got me into Big Bang Theory," Harry says sheepishly as his wife, Ginny Potter, blushes alongside him.

"Hey what do you expect me to do all day? The kids are somewhat self-sufficient. And I don't play quidditch professionally anymore," the redhead whines.

"Fine," another Mysteries team member, Theo Nott. tries to redirect the discussion, "if rock, parchment, shears doesn't work for you all, how about whoever can drink a shot fastest wins?" His eyes give him away, he knows the tolerance of all his team members which is exceptionally high.

Hermione interrupts, "So you want to start a drinking game with a drinking game, Nott? I don't think so. Some of these people at this table have jobs that have them on call at all times."

"Yeah, last thing we want," drawls the sultry voice of Malfoy, "is an inebriated Potter running off to catch some big bad wizard." His side of the table chuckles. "Fine. Rock, parchment, shears it is. Why you have to use some ridiculous muggle terms is beyond me. But let me get this straight: rock beats shears, shears beats parchment, and parchment beats rock. Do I have it correct?"

"Yes, Malfoy, that is how the game is played," Hermione announces. "So, on the count of three knocks you show your hand. Ready?" The two men nod in understanding, "One, two, three, shoot!"

Harry won the duel, just like Magical Law Enforcement won the match earlier in the day, so he starts the new round. "First ground rules: all questions are post war only, primarily post schooling. Nothing that little ears," he points to his three-year-old son on his wife's ever shrinking lap, "shouldn't hear. Clean dares - most of us are highly public people and none of us want this splattered across the Prophet tomorrow. Anything else?" Most members of the table shake their heads, though a number of former Slytherin house members just smirk. "Good, good. First question up for grabs: where do you see yourself in five years?"

Ron starts the dialog, "I plan on being happily married to this beautiful woman, working for my best friend and maybe working on a baby or two." He then leaned over and kissed his blushing wife on the cheek.

Ginny Potter went next, "I hopefully won't be pregnant. That is it. I am over pregnancy and diapers for a while. Hear that Potter?"

The table laughed.

A few more gave their two knuts worth, saying something about being a lead auror or working in a new department.

Malfoy chimed in with, "Anywhere not in named Azkaban, thanks very much. Other than that, I really don't care. Potter? How about you?"

"Married to a hopefully not pregnant Ginny, Department Head maybe, and teaching my boys how to fly a broom. That sounds perfect to me."

Theo Nott coughed, "I don't know about the rest of you but I know exactly where I will be in five years." A murmur starts around the table, all asking him to proceed. "Well ladies and gentlemen, I will be under Granger in five years."

Gasps were heard. Ginny said something along the lines of 'Little ears!' in a near screech. Hermione yelled 'How dare you!' while her husband clamored 'Over my dead body Nott!'

"Please, please let me explain. I have a feeling you don't see my point of view," Nott continued waving his arms to attempt to calm the table down.

"Enlighten us then Nott," Harry Potter stared him down with his deep emerald eyes. "You did say you were going to be under my best friend."

Nott gets a mischievous look on his smirking face, "Indeed I did, Potter. You see in five years I will still be a measly Ministry worker, whereas our esteemed Granger here will most likely be Minister of Magic, making the wizarding world a better place and all that Gryffindor hullabaloo. Therefore, I, like all employees here, will be under her."

Hermione stood, taking her husband forcefully with her, "I think we should be going; I had no idea how late it was already. Thank you for a lovely match and evening. I will floo you later Ginny." She hugged Harry and Ginny, kissing their young son on the top of his head, said some other personal farewells, and left dragging her husband behind her.

"Nott, know that Hermione just saved your life," Harry explained. "If Ron would have been around more, it would likely have become an all-out brawl."

One of the younger aurors mumbled, "Sorry boss. Next time I promise to bring Cards Against Muggles."

"No problem Will," he patted the young man's shoulder. "Mione has Ron."

No one really heard the whispers from the other end of the table. "Good one Nott," came from Malfoy, "and if every man here were being honest, we all look forward to the day we are under Minister Granger."

* * *

Author's Notes:  
House: Slytherin  
Year:5  
Additional Story  
Prompt: Friendly Competition  
Word Count: 1086


End file.
